What Do We Even Wake Up To?
by jentreal2
Summary: A series of oneshots featuring genderbent couples and the lives they wake up to.
1. Wake Up to a Sleepy Face

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Naruto

Genderbent couple: SaixSakura:SeikoxSeiichi

But it was Seiichi who felt the worst in the end; because it was Seiko who was almost unsure of her place by him.

He rustled in the sheets, searching blindly for her warmth. He found it crawling away, moaning slightly as she tried to move out of bed. She scrunched her eyes, and he could feel her breath on his neck as she kissed him with an open mouth. Her arms snaked around him, and Seiichi felt at peace. Better than peace, he mused, inhaling her scent deeply.

"Good morning," Seiko murmured softly, rubbing her cheek against his skin. "You feel prickly, Giggly. I wonder if your beard is pink too," Seiichi groaned, pulling her up and kissing her firmly on the mouth. "Highly likely, you little jerk. My father's was pink as well."

"Mmm," Seiko hummed, and tried to shake away her long dark from her face. She smiled, one of those rare smiles she reserved only for a few of her close friends, and she curled up closer to her lover.

"How odd. It's morning, but rather than feeling refreshed, I feel relaxed and sore. This must be why sex is so draining but enjoyable. My book seemed to be right on that," Seiko said quietly as Seiichi continued to close his eyes. "Yes; that's why we sleep," he managed to yawn out, gripping the naked girl closer to him. She yawned in agreement, and they settled back into the bed, happy to waste the morning together.


	2. The Smell of Burnt Eggs

Pairing: NarutoxHinata:NarukoxHin

Hin wasn't a selfish man; but that didn't stop Naruko from wanting to spoil him silly and give him ten-fold what he gave her.

She wasn't the best cook. Her best dishes included freezers, instant rice, and of course, cups and cups of instant ramen. He on the other hand was an exceptional cook, better than most of the mothers they knew and restaurants they frequented. It's what made the sight of her in only an apron, a tray of carefully arranged, slightly burned food in her hands, and her shiny new wedding ring glinting of her finger all the more exciting.

She fidgeted under his sleepy gaze, trying to refuse to stare at the way the covers fell around his waist and exposed his chest. "Good morning," she chirped-squeaked, her cheeks uncharacteristically red and her knees weaker than ever. "I thought that, well, since its official and all, and well, you made me feel so good last night, and I know we can get something ordered, and I know that I can't find my way around the kitchen, but I'm your wife now, so,"

She was interrupted in her ramblings by a pair of warm lips and large hands. "It will taste wonderful. My wife made it for me, after all," he replied, his voice deep with sleep. She flushed under the biggest smile she had ever given anyone, and bit her lip happily.

Hin smiled, and moved to make room for her in the bed. She squealed, busying herself with placing the tray between them and feeding him with shaky chopsticks. The eggs were slightly salty and the rice was crunchier than usual, but between the two of them, only an empty tray and a discarded apron remained when they finished.


	3. Helping Hands

Pairing: NejixTenten:NamixTien

Tien was a man of his craft; Nami was more than happy to become another medium for him to test his experienced hands on.

They say she gave her hair a thousand strokes in the morning and night. It was the only possible way for it to remain so flawless and healthy. But Nami thought that was silly. Who had time for a thousand strokes of a hairbrush?

Tien, on the other hand, was fascinated by her hair. Strong, fluid, dark, it was one of her best features. Perhaps it's what led him to subconsciously grow out his own too, he mused lightly as he caressed it. He was always weird in displaying his affections. His musings were cut short when he heard his name slice the comfortable silence.

"I wish my hands were more like yours," she said honestly, flickering her eyes on him. He stopped his stroking and looked confused. His hands were large and rough, thick with callouses and old burns. They were his life, but hardly his best feature. She sighed at his confusion and kissed one of his hands, gently tracing her lips along the old scars. "I feel protected in your hands. Small, almost fragile. It's a new feeling I never thought I would be given,"

Tien smiled, and placed one of his hands on her cheek, the other on the back of her head. "I'm glad," he whispered softly, "That these ugly hands make you feel good."


	4. A Beautiful Scar

Pairing: TemarixShikamaru:TemaruxShikai

It was the scars Temaru carried that repulsed others; but it was those same scars that Shikai refused to let other people judge her man upon.

Shikai's mother, Shikari, had a thick scar running across her cheek. Her father, Yoshi, never minded; it was the scar he kissed every day, and it was the scar he claimed to love so much. It was only after Shikai first made her bed with Temaru that she realized how much she loved scars.

At first, he would never allow her to look upon them more than she had to. He was a hardened man that had no business sullying the eyes of his lover. It wasn't until she shed her apathetic mask that he was forced to remain shirtless.

She took her time, kissing it slowly before she ran her fingers up and down the thickened tissue. "I love you with or without the scar. But because you hate me looking at it, I will. Because I love you, I'll help you carry this scar." She breathed out calmly, her dark eyes alive with something warm.

Temaru now looked at his chest differently. It no longer held the mark of his sins and destruction, his sacrifice and pride. It was Shikai's scar now, one she had asked for to help him. If she would carry his burdens, he would carry hers too, in the future. But for now, they would carry his scars together.


	5. Displacement

Pairing: ChoujixIno:ChoukoxIkuo

Ikuo always had his pride; sometimes, he worried it was all he could ever give to Chouko.

She loved to cuddle; it was warmth and happiness all wrapped up in strong arms and soft kisses. But when she first started sleeping with Ikuo, he always left the bed first. She always woke up to cold sheets and her arms wrapped around herself, and she always fell asleep with him facing away from her, hot tears brimming in her eyes. At first, she tried not to mind; she loved him for this long, this had to work. But no matter how much she tried, no matter how much she gave, she never felt loved, really loved.

He was the first one to suggest it, over bad coffee and buttery biscuits at a diner in their hometown. She stared into her cup, hot tears forming in the back of eyes. She refused to let him pay for her food, and she took the bus home. She didn't see the look that crossed his face when she asked for him never to talk to her again; the doors of the bus had already closed by then.

She was asked out by a nice enough man in her international cooking class, and they had spent a nice dinner together; no kisses were exchanged, and the hug lacked feeling. The next day, when she came back to her apartment, arms heavy with grocery bags, she was pressed against her door by a pair of hot masculine hands and a rough chin on her neck. "Cho," Ikuo groaned, and the two ended up in her bed again, their clothes thrown haphazardly on the ground and their bodies slick with sweat.

Chouko cried when she climaxed, her heart pounding furiously in her chest, her mind screaming at her. She tried curling away from him, but he held her from behind, spooning her and kissing her neck. "I was scared," he whispered, his voice thick with something unfamiliar. "I'm selfish and spoiled, so I don't know how to spoil other people. Can you teach me how to treasure you?" She continued to cry, unable to face him. It was the first of many nights where he slept holding onto her.


End file.
